


though the waves leap

by Sabaxoxoxo



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Boston, Free Verse, One Shot, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabaxoxoxo/pseuds/Sabaxoxoxo
Summary: A tiny missing moment-type thing set when Claire is in Boston with baby Bree. And a homage to Faith's seaside song.
Comments: 45
Kudos: 92





	though the waves leap

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one shot incomplete and sitting in my drafts for months. But I've been reading Here is the Beehive by Sarah Crossan, which is written in verse, and it inspired me to rework this into something a little different. Hope you like it :)

“Mama!” Bree waves at me enthusiastically,

running through the seafoam in her gumboots and raincoat,

her smile wide and her nose runny.

I wave back,

laughing from my spot in the sand at our silly little girl,

only two and already too grown up.

She is terrorising the seagulls,

cawing loudly,

the cold air pink on her cheeks.

I leave for class before she wakes

in the mornings.

And pick her up as the sun sets,

cranky and falling asleep in the car seat.

We hardly see each other.

But today I’ve driven us to the bay,

even though it is past dinnertime and

it looks like it might rain.

She crouches in the wet sand

trying to pile it up into a mound.

But the waves keep washing her castle away.

“Hmmf.” She grumbles

when her efforts are erased for a third time.

She stands and shakes her little fists at her sides

breathing out through her nose.

I chuckle, recognising that temper simmering just below the surface

and join her.

“You have to build it away from the waves,

darling, otherwise you’ll keep losing it.”

I show her, piling it up until

she bounds over and sits down with a thump,

adding fistfuls of sand to the mound.

The beach is deserted.

It is only us, as it often is in the world.

We have a village of sand castles before

Bree loses interest,

her concentration shifting to the wet sand sticking to her palms.

The wind flicks the ends of her copper curls onto her cheeks,

and a small, determined crease sits between her brows.

“You’re so like him,

did you know that?”

I tuck a curl behind her ear.

“Mhmm.” She agrees,

not looking away from her task.

She is picking the sand off her fingers one grain at a time.

I bite my lip.

She has recently developed a habit of affirming everything.

He wouldn’t know that.

He wouldn’t know we had a daughter.

Another one.

By the grace of God.

He would never know how smart she is.

How she can already say the Italian phrases her sitter has taught her.

Last week she’d drawn a picture of two flowers holding hands --

_a Mama flower and a Bree flower._

I’d cried and

taken it to class the next day to show Joe.

I pick up handfuls of sand and watch it slip through my

fingers.

He wouldn’t know that she is kind.

She shares so well with the other children.

I wonder how she would be with a sibling.

A sister.

I sometimes worry she is too nice.

That people will take advantage of her.

The loud waves crash deliciously on the shore.

She has the silliest sense of humour.

She is awfully proud.

And stubborn.

I take the blame for that one.

Most of it, anyway.

She likes things in twos -

two pigtails,

two bows in her hair,

two books at night, even though

she is asleep by the end of the first one.

There is so much about her.

I have our baby.

I don’t have to imagine

like he does.

I swallow the lump in my throat,

sniffing. The wind has picked up.

“Do you know the seaside song, sweetheart?”

“Yup!” She nods confidently.

I raise my brows.

“What sea song side?” She asks, meeting my eyes.

I smile. “It’s about being at the seaside,

like we are now.

It goes, _oh I do like to be beside the seaside._

 _Oh I do like to be beside the sea._ ”

Bree hums tunelessly, mumbling all the lyrics other than “ _seaside_ ”.

It is only us on the beach. Our daughter and I.

Half of our family.

How would it would be

with the four of us?

Bree chasing the gulls and

Jamie

chasing her.

In my head, Faith is always a baby.

I sit with her in my arms, rocking

gently and watching them squeal when the waves

catch them.

Jamie

scooping Bree up from

behind and holding her

up side down, shrieking in delight

as they make their way over to us.

Jamie

kissing my cheek as he sits down,

sea blue eyes sparkling with love.

I pull Bree into my arms suddenly.

Her sandy knees bump my middle

and I hold her tightly to my chest.

She is beautiful. So big.

I can no longer cup her head in the palm of my hand.

She is startled by my sudden urgency.

“Mama?”

Her fingers are cold. Still wet from the sea.

She touches a tear on my cheek.

Clumsily tries to wipe it away.

“I love you, sweetheart. I just love you so much, ok?”

“Yup,” she affirms. Placing a big wet

kiss on my mouth.


End file.
